


Hold Me Up Like This

by alexenglish



Series: Tumblr Fic [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crush at First Sight, F/M, Trans Character, Trans Erica, Trans Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica goes to Stiles about her date with Boyd. She's concerned, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Up Like This

“I fucked up,” Erica says, slamming into Stiles’ dorm room without any warning. He should be used to it by now, but he still flails in place, slamming his elbow down on the desk. His face screws up in agony, gesturing at the door. Erica rolls her eyes, and kicks it shut, while Stiles pulls on a shirt, mumbling about decency.

“Oh shut up,” she says, sighing. “You know I don’t care if you’re sitting around in your binder.”

“It shatters the illusion,” Stiles complains, throwing a wadded up wrapper at her. The stale smell of burrito hits her in the face when the wrapper does. It falls to the floor with a thud, but the smell lingers.

“Except I knew you before the illusion was implemented,” she says, dismissively, kicking the wrapper in the corner. Erica knew Stiles all through high school, before he transitioned, when he was awkward and gangly and all too-aware of his body, lashing out at anyone who attempted to befriend him. “Illusion pre-shattered. Also, how long have you been wearing that thing? You’re only supposed to have it on for 8 hours. Why the hell does your room smell like old tacos? Have you even left all weekend?”

They became fast friends freshman year of high school when they both joined the GSA club. Back when Erica was going by her birth name, hair not quite long enough to be androgynous. It was easy to spot someone as uncomfortable with themselves as she was. It took some prodding and goading for Stiles to admit to her that he was trans, but it bonded them. Now, he’s just an irritating burr in her side that she wouldn’t trade for the world.

“First off, don’t mention Before,” Stiles says, holding up a finger. “Secondly, I’m out of Adderall until Monday. I am moody and binging web comics. Thirdly, it’s only been 7 hours and 45 minutes, I have a timer.  _Fourthly_ , please tell me how you fucked up so I can laugh at you for it.”

“I agreed to a date with Boyd,” she laments, throwing herself on his bed. 

She immediately regrets it, sinking into the soft foam. Stiles’ father felt guilty about not being able to help with dorm expenses, so for Christmas Stiles got an expensive, tempur-pedic pillow top for his thin dorm mattress. Erica ends up in Stiles’ room a lot after house parties, fixated on the idea of a comfy place to crash.

“How is that a  _bad thing_?” Stiles asks, swivelling in his chair so he can raise his eyebrows at her. Erica shrugs, sighing at the ceiling. Stiles knows about her consuming crush on Boyd because she laments about it to him often.

She may or may not hang out in the social sciences building more than she needs to, just to run into him. Boyd’s majoring in political science and she’s doing humanities studies, so their paths have crossed multiple times in the past year.

“He doesn’t know about me,” she says, gesturing at her crotch. The tits and hips are real, the hair, her voice, and mouth. It’s all  _her_ , but her lower half is definitely not  _her_ , not completely. She’s still on the waiting list for that.

“You can get to know him without letting him know what’s in your pants,” Stiles says, idly, she can hear his fingers tapping against his leg. She doesn’t have to be looking at him to know that he’s staring her with that  _look_ , all knowing and  _irritating as hell_. “You don’t have to tell him. Take it slow.”

Erica snorts through her nose, stomach souring with anxiety.

“Right,” she says, exhaling heavily. She pops up so she can actually look at Stiles. He freezes from where he’s peeling off his binder, boobs bouncing as it comes off. It’s always so weird to see him topless, because it just doesn’t  _fit_. Even before he transitioned, he’s just been a  _guy_  in Erica’s mind. Seeing him with tits doesn’t make any sense to her brain. It’s like a poorly done photoshop job. Stiles’ head on a body that doesn’t belong to him. She screws her eyes shut, giving him privacy.

“Dude, it’s cool,” he says. When she opens her eyes again, his shirt is back on, stretching, rotating, deep breaths. “Boyd, Erica, focus.”

“Right,” she says, again. “Boyd. Boyd, presumed-to-be-heterosexual Boyd.  _Huge_  Boyd, who could probably kill me in one punch if he ended up being one of those guys who decides that I’m being a ‘deceitful bitch’ once I come out to him.”

Despite going to a mostly liberal college, Erica has had the misfortune of going on date with guys who assume one thing, and act like she’s the worst person in the world for not telling them she has a dick right off the bat. Both ways to approach it are risky, but Erica doesn’t like advertising anything she doesn’t absolutely need to.

“He wouldn’t,” Stiles says, looking scandalized. “ _Vernon Boyd_. Gentle giant. Sure, he has resting murder face, but he’s a marshmallow. A large, burly,  _muscular_ , marshmallow. Edible, even –”

“Jesus, Stiles, stop,” Erica says, but her chest loosens up, the tiniest bit.

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles says, with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “Now, just gimme like a half an hour, and once I can put my binder back on, we’ll binge on Taco Bell burritos.”

“By binge you mean buy 5, and only finish 3 and a half?” Erica asks, because she knows Stiles. His eyes are are far bigger than his stomach.

“One day, I’ll finish all 5,” Stiles sighs.

 

 

 

Erica doesn’t know why she bothered asking, both her and Stiles know what she’s going to go with, it’s just  _answering_  that makes Erica feel nervous. When Erica sees Boyd in the social sciences building the next day, she waves him down and agrees to go out with him. Predictably, Boyd invites her to a frat party on Saturday, but the way he’s smiling at her makes her feel warm and happy, so she’s not opposed.

When Saturday comes along, she agonizes over her makeup for almost as long as she agonizes over her clothes. Stiles is in her room running commentary, but he’s useless when it comes to fashion. The closest he gets to decently dressed is when he wears sweaters in the winter. Other than that, it’s punny t-shirts and plaid. Erica doesn’t have time for that.

“You should have invited Allison,” Stiles says, tossing a ball up into the air and catching it like he’s the angsting teenager in a ‘90s movie. It’s going to end up landing on his face, and Erica is going to laugh at him so hard.

“They’re have a masculine week,” Erica asks, eyeing a purple top and a blue top. “They don’t want to help me get dressed for a date right now. Trust me, I would take Ally over you any day.”

“That hurts,” Stiles says. “In my  _soul_. Wear the maroon.”

Erica ends up wearing the maroon, because it makes her skin look completely flawless. She sticks to lip gloss, so Boyd will kiss her. Some people get really weird about lipstick; either they don’t want it on them, or they don’t want to mess up your face. Either way, Erica wants to avoid that, she needs kissing to happen.

Boyd picks her up promptly at 9, and even holds the door open for her. He looks stunning in a soft grey shirt that hugs his shoulders; Erica wants to climb him like a  _tree_. She restrains herself from dragging him into the back seat of his car, because Boyd is  _large_  and that might not be that possible with his shoulders as broad as they are.

When they get to the frat house, Boyd opens her door for her, and grabs her hand so she can step out. When she’s out of the car, he doesn’t let go, just laces their fingers together, pressing their palms together. She feels like she’s floating, stomach sizzling with nerves.

“This okay?” he asks, with a half smile on his face, hand tightening in hers.

“I’ll tell you if something’s not okay,” she says, smiling slyly. Boyd laughs at her, and drags her through the party. She doesn’t have to make an effort to stick close to her side, he holds her hand as they wind through the house.

There’s not a lot of people that she knows, but a few she recognizes from when Jackson, Danny, and Scott all rushed. They might be here, she doesn’t know, she doesn’t  _care_  at the moment, because she’s on a date with  _Boyd_.

Boyd who introduces her as “the beautiful Erica” and “the radiant Erica”. It does absolutely nothing to help her resolve of  _not_  climbing him like a tree when he’s grinning at her, and looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.

They do shots in the kitchen, shoulders pressed together. After few shots in, she stops resisting. Being reserved absolutely gets her nowhere, she should have learned that by now. She wants to touch Boyd freely, so she does, hands on his arms, and pressing her forehead into his shoulder, laughing, smiling.

When they dance, and Erica has no qualms plastering herself to him, hips swaying. He’s a good dancer, but he can’t keep up at all, so he just lets her lead, big hands on her hips. She wants to feel his hands everywhere else, too, but she’s content to dance for now, see just how much she can get him to bite his lip at her, gaze dragging hot over her body as she rolls her hips and grinds into him.

They kiss in the middle of the dance floor during a song, because Erica just  _can’t wait_ , she flings herself at him, and he pulls her in close. It’s warm and sweet and Erica wants to kiss him for  _hours_.

When they get too hot, they move outside, sitting on one of the benches. Boyd pulls her on his lap, noses up her neck, pressing kisses to her skin. She’s comfortable, warm, the tiniest bit buzzed. They fit together so well, his hand planted firmly on her thigh.

“You’re a good dancer,” he says, between kisses. The praise is thrilling for Erica, she bites her lip and giggles shyly. It’s so cliche, so freeing, and amazing. Even it ends up that Boyd is one of  _those guys_ , this isn’t something she’s going to forget. It’s the perfect night out for a girl like her.

(He doesn’t end up being one of those guys. After a few dates, they talk about it, and Boyd just smiles, grabs her hand, tells her that knows, pressing kisses to her knuckles.)

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/127331906647/killslay-said-trans-teen-wolf-headcanonau-with)


End file.
